Potboiler
by PrincessIxi
Summary: One hundred prompts to one hundred different scenarios of Master and Butler's day to day lives. Warnings inside.
1. Fake Chapter

**Title **Potboiler

**Rating **M-17

**Warning/s **Shota, strong blood and gore, swearing

**Category **Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

**Pairing/s **SebastianxCiel

**Summary **One hundred prompts to one hundred different scenarios of Master and Butler's day to day lives.

**Author's Note **Thought I would give myself a literary challenge. 100 prompts. I wanted to finish them all before posting, but thought, what the hey. Trying to group similiar stories together so chapters aren't so puny. There are a few AU arcs that take place during different chapters. **Guardian** **Angel**, which is complete AU also adding in characters from the anime. **Soul Stealer **which is more AT and a takeoff of season two's idea of other demons becoming aware of Ciel's most-excellent soul. And finally **Post Apocalyptic,**

**Potboiler**- a mediocre work of literature or art produced merely for financial gain.

**Disclaimer **I do not own Kuro/Black Butler, despite what the title implies, hurr.


	2. Imbroglio

**1. Embrace**

Decked out in true Indian fashion, Ciel no longer recognises his old summer home. Once drawing room is now a paradise of overstuffed cushions, rugs of exotics beats and lavish wall hangings, Ciel almost disappears into the soft furbishing as his hosts do their best to make him feel welcomed.

Per the social hierarchy, Sebastian and Agni stand docile by the doors.

Soma however, calls the all too willing Agni over from his station, dragging him down and both men lose identity of whose arm belongs to whom as the cushions literally suck and unbalance their intertwined limbs and they laugh over the scene their causing.

Ciel can't decide where to look, awkwardness written over his face and settles on glancing at Sebastian, then quickly averts his eyes before his actions can be misinterpreted. The regal Prince never misses a beat though. Shaking strands of violet out of his eyes, his smile is almost coy.

"Don't you ever think to reward your servant, Ciel?"

The Earl snorts, as if even suggesting such a thing is offensive. "Sebastian is aware that he is appreciated."

Soma pouts, at last having got all limbs back, Agni settled beside him on his stomach. The teenager has yet to realise how different their countries customs are. Thanking a butler, showing affection, it just isn't done.

"What does Sebastian say about this?"

"It is as my Master says."

Ciel shoots the chocolate skinned men a _so there_ look. Which turns to apprehension as Sebastian continues. "However being told and shown, are two separate matters entirely."

Golden eyes light up, and Soma claps his hands together as a child does over a new discovery. "Then it's settled. Ciel, give you butler a cuddle. . . come now, that look says you would rather hug an alligator. . . oh gosh, I'm remembering the other day when we had that accident with the fireplace. A fat ember leapt out and it nearly burnt down one of the throw rugs. It would be ever such a shame if another 'accident' happened and burnt the entire house to the ground. We might even have to move back in with the Earl. . ."

"Sebastian, come over here."

"Understood."

Looking as uncooperative as ever, yet resigned, Ciel sits up a little straighter as his butler comes towards him, kneeling onto the ground to be roughly the same height. "Please look a little happier about it, young Master," Sebastian sighs. "Aren't you supposed to be showing your gratitude for all the years I've served you?"

_You pig_ is what nearly escapes the boys lips, but he keeps them tightly closed. Loosely, his arms loop around Sebastian's broad shoulders, instinctively pulling the demon in tighter as Sebastian mimics his Master, hand span large enough to almost cover the panels of Ciel's back.

Tartly, he ignores and _n'awwwwws_ from behind, pressing his lips to Sebastian's ear and hisses; "Prepare to get one hell of a reprimand at home."

"I look forward to it," is the dark rumble he gets in reply, trying to pass off his shivers as tossing hair out of his eye.

**92. Cold**

Soma stares sourly at him, arms and legs crossed on the leather hid couch. Ciel keeps his china cup to his lips, taking long, phantom sips from the tea dregs- avoiding the inevitable.

"You _don't_ thank your butler."

Ciel's visible cobalt eye snaps to the Prince's, knuckles white from holding onto the cup for so long. Sighing forlornly, the sound of metal chiming merrily together rings out as Soma shifts his head- his layers of tops and heavy jewellery, baggy pants ill fitting for the summer heat.

"You don't _thank_ your butler?"

Ciel feels his eyebrow tick in suppressed rage. His medical patch itches across his eye, Sebastian having swapped from typical eyepatch as the stiff leather doesn't let his skin breathe underneath in the summer heat.

"You don't th-"

"No matter what accentuation you put on it, it's not going to change!" Ciel blurts out, whacking his chine down on the table top. "This is Great Britain, who would ever thank their butler in this day and age?" the child stands with tight composure, heels clipping against the wooden floor boards as he agitatedly stalks to peer out the window.

This is the _second_ time he's been bugged about this.

Speak of the devil- as it were- he spies Sebastian in the rose bushes in the middle of the courtyard. The intense heat this year has made them bloom beautifully. As Ciel's gaze settles on his butler's bobbing back, the head trimmers pause mid slash, and the demon turns slightly as the contract burns both of them.

Flustered, Ciel withdraws before Sebastian can catch him out on his spying.

"That doesn't make any sense," Soma grunts, picking at an imaginary spot of lint on his knee. "Your _country_ doesn't make any sense."

"Soma," Ciel says in his no bullshitting voice. "I think it's just _you_. As the master of the house, it's the vassal's job to do their wishes with no complaint and expect no reward. Most are just grateful to have a roof over their heads and hot meals at night."

The Prince looks even more displeased at this. "But it's common courtesy. And I'm sure Sebastian would appreciate a gesture of gratitude once in a while. Just think about it," he tries again, as Ciel stubbornly shakes his head. "That man takes care of you and has done so much- it might not even be a stretch to say he loves you- what's a one off?"

"Hmpf," Ciel grunts, thinking that anybody who's going to end up eating him doesn't deserve one spit of thanks.

**83. Choices**

The maid is clumsy, perhaps a loss of footing or shaking hands, either way, the scorching pot of tea drops from her fingers and splashes all down the head of the Phantomhive's chest and legs. Ciel's eyes go round as his father's expression flickers from surprise to well controlled calm.

With shrill cries, the maid apologises blunderingly, trying to wipe up the worst of the damage. Ciel can see his father's neck slowly turning red from the heat of the tea. He expects the punishment to follow swiftly. A raised hand, striking her down, hitting her with the china set, flicking out his belt- Ciel has seen it happen hundreds of times when at luncheons with other families.

But his father doesn't do any of these.

Smiling charmingly, he taps the maid's hands, and politely tells her not to worry and to please fetch Tanaka with a fresh change of clothes.

Once alone, Ciel asks him about it.

"As the masters, we have the freedom to hurt others that cannot stop it. We have the choice, they do not. If we're forever unkind, even to those beneath us, where would it get us?"

**56. Appreciate**

Ciel chickens out at the last second, leaving the wrapped gift on top of Sebastian's pillow for him to discover after serving tonight's dinner.

**94. Panic**

The moon has just touched the top of his window, and Ciel patiently waits on the edge of his bed, internal clock telling him it's about a minute before Sebastian will routinely undress then put him to bed. Brushing back his over grown fringe, Ciel carefully pulls his medical patch off and sets it on his night table, slowly blinking his glowing eye as it adjusts in the darkness. A puddle of lavender light shadows his cheekbones.

He doesn't know why he still asks for this to be done, he's technically an adult now. Maybe because it reminds him a little of when his own parents used to tuck him in at night-

Ciel's head jerks as the doors creak open, Sebastian's face shimmering in the halos of candles he holds. The out of place red fabric around his neck catches in the orange glows, and Ciel goes instantaneously scarlet, heart doing a lunge upwards and he dives under his sheets, ramming his pillow over his embarrassed face. He can't believe Sebastian has the nerve to wear it!

"I'm fine like this!" he lies, day clothes rumple as he cocoons himself. "You can go!"

The gentle tap of the candle holder being set down and Sebastian's sly chuckle makes Ciel's freeze up, eyes squeezing shut in added protection. If possible, he feels his cheeks burn harder as Sebastian tries to tug the pillow off, other hand shimmying under the covers to grasp at his arm.

"Sebastian! I'm _ordering_ you to lea-" Ciel plays his last, desperate, trump card, words choking off suddenly as Sebastian's wondering hand clamps down over his mouth.

"My, my, is that rude mouth of yours telling me to go away?" the Earl can hear the smile in his voice, and is only released when he stops worming about. He feels one of Sebastian's fingers trace over his bottom lip in a- _keep it that way_, kind of gesture. "Won't you show me your face, young Master?" he says in a voice Ciel can imagine he has used on his previous victims before licking them up.

He shakes his head furiously, fingers tightening on the only shield he has.

The faint disheartened sigh is evidence he has won. "Pride before fall is it? Very well."

Ciel feels the back of his head being exposed as Sebastian lifts the top half of the pillow up, then the hot crush of his butler's weight as he leans over to nuzzle into the revealed skull. "That was very sweet of you," Sebastian rumbles, Ciel helplessly clutching at the pillow and feeling as if he's about to die from shame.


	3. Kiss the Gunner

**Author's note- this is especially for Matt who wondered where the hell my scary writing slithered off to. This is me warning you now that the violence/gore/very scary Ciel in here may offend some people. Kiss the gunner's daughter is an old British expression that you can all look up in your spare time c;**

* * *

**35. Scars**

Howling and sobbing like a child isn't about to help the situation, Ciel mentally berates, dropping to his knees to assess the extent of the damage. The snow covered streets of London graze at his exposed skin, cold wind touch his bare calves and thighs. He hyperventilates only a little.

Sebastian is crooked on the ground, bleeding from a hidden wound in his chest, and Ciel is only a month shy out of being ten, narrow mind not having fathomed other supernatural beings aside from demons.

The body of the Lycanthrope lies about a metre away, all fluffy tail and broken claws and fangs. He tries his best not to vomit at the smell of wet dog.

His butler's eyes are half lidded, enquiring to why Ciel is making such a big fuss. The Earl's hands shake, upper forearms and shoulder soon tremble in an effort to not sob out loud. At last the limbs get ahold of themselves, granting Ciel the ability to slip Sebastian's buttons off his swallow tailed coat, then waist jacket, then blouse under that. Thirteen buttons. It's never seemed like such an impossible mission, but there you go.

He's revealed what a slab of meat looks like after being attacked with a serrated edge clever.

"Such honest tears over a demon like myself. I am honoured, my Lord," he didn't realise his resolve was starting to waver quite so badly- interestingly enough, his sealed eye does not weep. Belatedly he also realises that he doesn't want Sebastian to die and leave him all alone. The statement is so powerful in his mind, it awakens another shameful bout of crying.

Mystified, maybe even a little humbled by the refreshing gesture, Sebastian lifts a hand- not without minor wincing- gloved fingers tracing over his leather eye patch, over his damp cheeks still round with a child's build and across his lips-so delicate and small like a Botticelli Cherub- before giving another, slightly stronger wince, and something truly amazing happens.

His once tore apart chest starts to crack inwards, the sound of bones rearranging themselves is highly unpleasant, but Ciel can't tear his good eye off the miracle. Thirty seconds later, there is only a glossed over scar running from sternum to collarbone to indicate there was ever any damage.

Ciel's mouth hangs open, earning a bemused laugh from below.

"Why didn't you tell me you could regenerate!" Ciel yells, ears hot with embarrassment and he strikes Sebastian on the shoulder.

**28. Honest**

Is something Sebastian is not.

**74. Furious **

After their first supernatural attack, Ciel orders his valets out of the mansion, throwing himself and Sebastian down into the wine cellar for _a talk_.

"Is there anything else you've neglected in telling me?" Ciel growls, pacing up and down, Colt revolver tight in his right hand.

"I've told you everything, young Master," Sebastian replies robotically, eyes cold.

"Lair!"

The Earl's moodswings have become more and more erratic the more he learns of accepting his parent's deaths and realising how awful he is for getting over the grieving period so quickly. Feeling insecure is a complete understatement.

The Colt kicks in his hands, hammer flashing down, smell of gunpowder sharp in the air and the bullet cuts cleanly into his butler's foot. The demon buckles to the ground in a good impersonation of being in agony.

He hears the familiar squeak of the spring setting the loading lever back into place.

"Will you ever die?" Ciel asks, finding his breath coming in panting wheezes. Sebastian's own breathing is pretty unstable too. He peers up through his fringe, face twitching in pain again as his skin reknits itself.

"I am a demon, young Master. I'll never truly die. At will I can repair most injuries."

"_Most_ injuries?" Ciel enquires, even though his foot has mended, Sebastian stays submissively in his crouch. "Let's test that theory out," before Sebastian can convince him otherwise, a bullet explodes out the back of his skull, blood splattering the cobble ground, bits of mattered hair still attached to skin and brain tissue splashing into the blood smears.

Slowly, the butler shudders, tipping over and hitting his side, blank eyes wide in surprise, still sizzling hole making a third eye in his forehead. Ciel flicks his Colt open, sloppily shaking the shells that haven't been blasted out and reloading with detached emotion.

The seal on his eye burns horribly.

"That was terribly rude, young Master," a breezy sigh escapes Sebastian's blood stained lips, life flooding swiftly back into his maroon eyes and he sits up gingerly. At a snail's pass, the back of his head means. "I honestly don't know where you pick your manners up from-"

A third bullets cleavers his heart, blood this time gushing from his mouth. Ciel has to take a step backwards as the steady pool of red slinks towards his shoes. Sebastian catches himself on his hands, clinging onto life this time.

Ciels contact throbs in time with the wild thumps of Sebastian's harmed heart.

"Are you quite finished?" he manages through a clot of blood, spitting it out onto the floor. A bullet shell gleams from the regurgitated blood.

_No._

Ciel wants the demon to suffer more. Ten times the tragedy of his own. To burden that feeling onto somebody else. He wants to shoot and shoot until he's ruined all over and he won't be able to stand looking at his own hands anymore. It feels so good.

His chest bursts outwards as he shoots through the spinal cord- a gash appears and the broken bone juts and rips free of his skin and clothes. Blood sprays from his back, netting cobwebs in Ciel's hair and across his cheek. Ciel kicks Sebastian down, then rolls him over, smile just as wide as the demon's, throwing down his revolver and taking his pocket knife out from the side of his boot.

He drops to the ground and thinks he hears the demon laughing, painful and shrill as he hacks through the stiff material of coat, jacket and blouse to slice at the smooth panel of his stomach- then realises he's hearing himself.

The weakened skin lets out another flow of blood- already he's lost five times as much as any normal human- and intestines try to push out as there is nothing to hold them back in place.

Ciel guides his hands through the thick liquid, hands itching and becoming sticky and hot, pushing up the flap of skin before it can sew itself back up, and starts to pull savagely at what he presumes is the large intestines.

A real howl comes from Sebastian, as Ciel digs deep, wondering if he could push his hands past the trivial stuff, run his hands over his rib cage and squeeze his heart- before tearing it out.

"Y-young Master," Sebastian's voice shakes deliciously, and Ciel's upper arms are given a warning grip.

"Do you fear for your life, Sebastian?" Ciel asks sweetly, putting his weight on his knees as he leans across his butlers shuddering body.

"I fear for yours."

**55. Annoy**

Lately he's realised that the little things that have annoyed him, have suddenly become much _bigger _things.

Finnie's filthy habit of digging dirty under his nails, Elizabeth's chiming giggles, going out of tune on his violin, or the second pothole in the road that jars his head when they travel to London.

And Sebastian irrational healing abilities.

Rationally, Ciel knows he's being unreasonable about it. Like it should bother him that Sebastian can brush off any knock and bruise, and can't be content with his unstoppable battle butler. Maybe, just a little, the only reason he's so twisted about it is that he has suffered so much and has every scar to show for it- and he just can't deal with another not being just as miserable.

"Kneel."

The order is barked out, in the darkness of the library, this is not the first time it's happened either. This, apart from outside, is the furthest and most sound proof place in the mansion from the rest of the servants.

In Ciel's hand, is a cat o' nine tails.

On the table next to him, knives that should be used on hunks of meat, strings of cutting wire, hedge clippers and a garden scythe. The table's length is easily Ciel's height and more. And it's covered in all sorts of instruments of terror, including the aforementioned.

"Shirt off," Ciel hisses, gripping the leather tightly between his fingers. It squeaks against his protective gloves.

This is almost a weekly thing. Pushing Sebastian to his demon-ly limits. Ciel insists it's for the good of both of them, knowing how far Sebastian can be hurt without discarding his borrowed body. Denying. Ciel has managed to convince himself this is the whole truth, but his wily demon easily sees though it.

Slowly, keeping his sharp eyes on Ciel always, Sebastian unbuttons the first layer of clothing. In almost _any other_ situation it could be thought as a teasing strip. The swallow tail coat drops to the ground, head butler badge and pocket watch chiming on the wooden panels. Next is his waist jacket, tight like a woman's corset, tie, and finally blouse.

Ciel smiles. He's going to _enjoy_ this.


	4. Guardian Angel

**97. Guardian **

As the clouds part, letting down the rays of summer sun shine and a pair of celestial beings, from down below, a piercing wail sounds.

Ciel slaps his hands over his ears, cherub wings snapping open to balloon the air currents and halt his downwards spiral. His companion glides pityingly over. "What _is_ that awful sound?" he grumbles, as Angela gently removes his hands, her double wing set indicate her high ranking in the heavenly hierarchy. Their great length double her own height, primary feathers just ghosting over Ciel's round cheeks.

"That is called crying, Ciel," the beautiful angel explains, shifting her wings to lead them further down through the clouds. Her thick sheet of platinum hair billows behind her, Ciel never once loosing sight of her glowing aura.

Compared to his mentor, Ciel is under grown, both in height and in stubby wings- an owl must have a greater span!- he thinks miserably. The other angels have simply labelled him _a bad egg_ from his hatching. Quite the contrary to human folk lore, angels are not the souls of the departed- angels are created from holy eggs that grow from a great tree up above. They are born fully grown, however have to earn their wings on missionary work, from new born single, to the acclaimed tri wing status.

Little Ciel was an odd cherub from the start. Already his underdeveloped wings brought attention to himself- though he was assured they would grow in time- his slate grey hair the colour only a demon wears, and disabled right eye sent off enough alarm bells for the celestial community to ostracise him.

Only Angela ,with her normal light coloured hair and fully fledged body, was kind enough to take him under her wing. So to speak.

"The noise is strange because we do not have that emotion in heaven," she continues to explain, gliding to a hover, looking down on a Victorian garden. Peering down, Ciel can see a small child on the ground, face to the sun as it bawls loudly. Strange water rolls down it's ruddy cheeks. "Those are tears," Angela adds, before he can ask himself. "See, it has fallen and scratched itself."

Softly, Angela floats down, invisible to a human eye, and blows sweetly over the child's bloody knee. Only Ciel sees the sudden burst of angelic magic, and the cut mends, the child's face suddenly clearing and an added rub of happiness sparks from her fingertips, making the human giggle suddenly and clap it's hands.

"Phew!" Angela sighs dramatically, flapping back up to join her apprentice. "It's such a chore to keep humans happy. But that's what a good angel does!"

**59. Toy**

As the sun rises to the middle point of the sky, both angels are made aware of the presence of more than one supernatural being in London today. As the work load today is heavy, Angela allows Ciel to part, ordering him to come find her if he gets in over his head.

Ciel adds a tiny push of magic to an old woman's back- curing her of her tight muscles and enabling her to carry on with the laundry- and is exiting the house when a clamorous shout echoes out from the street.

A man, pot bellied and wearing breaches, is wielding a rusty stained pipe, facing a slighter man holding an equally lethal looking weapon. As they spare off with words, Ciel discovers the smaller man has embezzled to the other- and has just been caught out.

The fine print of being an angel says you can not directly interfere with humans, only slightly push them in the direction they should be going towards. This means Ciel can't influence the men's mind's into not fighting, nor transform the weapons into clouds of air. Thinking on his wings, Ciel remembers Angela explaining the law enforcers in this part of Earth. Calling up his powers for a summoning spell, Ciel is shocked to his feathers when a sudden mute veils over the spell.

It is like someone has slipped a black bag over his head, or parried a blow of a sword swing.

Angered, a burst of contained magic showers out from his chest and fingers, the pressing force shifts uncomfortably, before being push further away. A shrill whistle sounds, and the stamp of horse hooves indicate the Scotland Yard's arrival onto the scene.

Exhausted from the excess amount of magic he has used, Ciel is eager to fly away and seek out a sunny place to recharge. He finds it in one of London's squares, the few remaining grasslands for miles. Not having to worry about humans seeing or colliding into him, Ciel settles himself down on one of the iron melded benches, closing his blue eyes to recover.

He's hardly suspended in animation for five minutes before a velvety voice breaks the spell.

"My, my. I thought I felt a sickingly good presence earlier."

Irritated at being disturbed, Ciel glances under his lashes to discover a face white as bone and sharp red eyes leering down at him.

A demon.

Ciel's pearly wings fluffy out in alarm, a natural reaction when coming into contact with a creature spat out of Hell herself. But apart from his eyes widening a little more, Ciel doesn't jump up or exclaiming loudly.

"Was that you interfering with my fun before?" the demon chides patronisingly like a parent does, pale lips curving up into an enduring smirk.

"What do you want, you disgusting beast," Ciel finds his tongue again, still paralysed to the bench, fingers gripped into tight fists.

"Do you praise god with that pretty mouth of yours? Shame on you. One wouldn't expected it with a face Botticelli himself might have painted," if possible, it's smile widens, and in a liquid motion swoops down on the angel to grip his chin between black claws fingertips.

The touch is icy cold, like the graze of something void of all life, and Ciel freezes up like a bird caught in a bright light. Its scent is strange, not at all like a celestial being, something hotter and muggier, something that can't be described in words. "Naughty little cherubs who disrupt my work and curse me, _have_ to be punished."

Ciel has no living heart, but his body experiences the same functions that any creature suffers when under threat. The demon looks hungry. Does it plan on eating his life force? He's heard that demons enjoy snacking on human souls, and even tales of angels when caught. Reflected in its gleaming eyes are his own, large and frightened.

Before he can- quite literally- be given the kiss of dead, a tremendous crack splits the air, and the demon buckles as if whipped from behind. Ciel slumps sideways upon release, gasping silently.

"Sebastian!" wings out in full glory, Angela swoops in for a second attack, another thunderous crash rings out, the demon- Sebastian- smart enough to spring out of harm's way in the nick of time. It lands safely in the branches of a tree.

Angela steps protectively in front of her apprentice.

"In trainings are _off limits_."

"'Twas only going to be a small bite. He's so tiny after all," Sebastian smiles at Ciel from around her lavish amount of feathers. Angela doesn't move, nor rises to the bait. With an attitude of thinking angels need to lighten up, the demon transforms itself into a black cat, which leaps from the tree and slinks away.

"Was he really going to eat my soul, Angela?" Ciel asks in a much stronger voice than he thought he was capable of.

The angel glances down with a worn expression. ". . lets just get back to work," she settles on saying, confirming Ciel's fear.


	5. Inundate

**82. Bathroom**

For those next few days, Ciel stays in bed like when a child sulks, refusing food and water left outside the door and the polite knocks that follow. He only obeys one bodily craving, the need of going to the bathroom. That is what the chamber pot was for, after all.

If only for a moment, he just wants to act like a normal mourning boy, and forget about his new resolve of revenge.

Finally, the polite raps stop. His new butler barges his way in on the fifth day, empty handed and immediately covers his sensitive nose with a handkerchief when the smell of stale air and excretion hits him.

"Honestly," he sighs, noise faint but enough to rouse Ciel from his inanimate gaze upwards from the four poster. Sebastian flicks the cotton handkerchief back into his sleeve as he is addressed, brows delicately pulling inwards as he takes in the room and his master.

"I didn't say you could come in," the child grates out, voice surprising strong for being bedridden and silent for so long.

". . my humble apologies, young Master," hand on his chest, Sebastian curtly bows until his black hair sweeps out from being tucked behind his ears. "But I fear it's time for you to get on with your duties again. The amount of paper work that's been stacking up is atrocious."

There is no concern for his health, or state of mind-tch, was he _expecting it-_ Ciel closes his eyes, willing the butler to leave him in peace.

No sooner has he snubbed him, he makes his presence known again. Ciel starts when he feels the strangely human normal breath on his face as Sebastian bears down on him. He isn't sure what to find, maybe the breath being overly hot, perhaps smelling like sulphur and brimstone like works of fiction state Hell to smell like.

"Get up."

"The valet ordering the master?" Ciel opens both eyes angrily, pentagram glowing an angry white, faces a flinch away, both silently discovering the do's and don't's of the contract as they tiptoe around their second meeting. Ciel isn't particularly frightened of knowing a demon inhabits the human shell above him. It is actually quite fascinating.

"I simply have your best interests at heart, young Master. Please get up," Sebastian corrects himself, bobbing his head and Ciel is just as surprised to find his night black hair is equally boring smelling. Ciel then realises how childish his assumptions have been.

"Do it yourself," Ciel simpers cheekily, turning his face away and resting his cheek against the silken pillows, slate grey strains curling around his face. He misses the annoyed look fluttering over his butlers face, eyes not quite brown, but not quite red either, narrowing.

His face seems to ask _is that an order, Sire?_

Clearly the demon has never dealt with delinquent ten year old boys before.

Quick as a viper, Sebastian whips down the covers, trapped body heat almost physically sighing in relief as it is granted escape. Ciel only gets as far as muttering an annoyed exclamation before Sebastian hoists him up under the arms and hefts him smoothly out of the bed. "Really now. Look at the state you're in," Sebastian clucks his tongue, sounding genuinely frustrated as Ciel glares poison from under his oily, ruffled up hair. ". . I think it's high time you had a bath, young master."

"_What?" _Ciel growls, getting no further again as Sebastian sweeps one arm under his knees and holds him bridal style. Every movement the Phantomhive butler executes is nothing short of graceful and full of purpose- and when he moves it's almost as if he glides with the poise of some exotic feline.

Before the order of _put me down right now _can get passed those chapped lips, Sebastian marches them both quickly into the en suite, Ciel noticing the bath tub is full and realising Sebastian must have planned this to happen.

Briefly his bare feet touch the cold tiles and he is released out of Sebastian's arms. The butler kneels before him, gloved fingers touching the buttons on his night gown in the act of unpopping them. "H-hey!" Ciel's hands clamp down on the intrusive fingers, cheeks heating up at making the comparison of his mother-a sudden twinge of pain at this- having to bathe him as a child- he _isn't_ a child.

"I believe the young Master's orders were quite clear," Sebastian raises a patronising eyebrow. Ciel has no answer for that. Craftily, the demon's lips curve up into a wicked smile, leaning his face in close until his hair grazes over Ciel's cheekbones. Gently, he pulls his hands from the Earl's slack grip, brushing his thumb once over the top pearl button before slipping it free. "You're like a doll, that needs to be dressed and looked after," he murmurs into his charge's ear, undoing the second, third and fourth button. "And shown a great amount of attention too. Until you can stand back on your own two feet and realise your purpose once again, let me do this," Sebastian continues, words sweet as wind chimes as he pushes the loosened material over Ciel's thin shoulders and lets it fall to the ground.

Ciel is swept back up, and now lowered slowly into the uncomfortably hot water. As Sebastian scopes up the liquid in a flat basin and showers it over his reddening skin and damp hair, it feels like the demon as performing an unholy baptism over his body.


	6. Soul Stealer I

**91. Pretend**

When Sebastian opens the door this morning, he did not expect to find a little girl on the door step.

She isn't holding a basket of flowers, her dress is clean of dirt stains and seems high enough in social status to wear a tight bodice around her middle. Her slate grey hair is neatly brushed and falls in glossy waves down her back. Large, pretty cobalt eyes are strangely familiar looking. As it is his job to over analyse a stranger, Sebastian notices a ruby signet ring around her left thumb, all other fingers to thin to hold the band in place. Small details anyone else may have over looked.

"May I help you?" Sebastian asks politely. Apart from Maylene, females are a rare assurance in the household. The guest's eyes nervously shift from side to side, and Sebastian finds himself almost magnetised to them. And they really are _just_ eyes, but for the life of him, he can't seem to avert his own gaze. They are oddly hypnotic and he starts to think he should really let the little girl inside- hold on.

"I'm here to see my brother," the girl informs him, doll like lips quirking into a sweet smile. Her voice has the timbre of a natural born singer.

"Your. . brother?" Sebastian asks, mentally going through the very short list of residents of the mansion. He can speak safely for himself, she is too young to be Tanaka's sister, too polite to be Finnian's and. . it is a nightmare to try and picture Bard with a Lolita sister like figure. That only leaves Ciel.

Sebastian almost laughs out loud, but manages to save himself by faking a cough. The idea is completely absurd. His brat of a master with a sister- it burns a vivid and comical image into his mind- he can hardly stand being in the same room as Lady Elizabeth for Hell's sake. From a logical point of view, Ciel insisted he was an only child right from the get go, not only that, but all his immediate family _died_ three years ago. Crispy and well done. Mm.

He supposes the only rational explanation is this is a customer going one step over the line.

"You're the young Master's little sister?" Sebastian smiles in good humour, just so the girl can admit it herself and he can get his jollies out of it.

Suddenly her blues eyes narrow, and she puffs herself up. "I am Adele Phantomhive, and I won't stand to be laughed at by a mere butler. Step aside and let me in!"

A lesser demon might have let his mouth hang. Or possibly explode her via hell fire on the spot. Luckily for humanity, Sebastian isn't, and curtly side steps away, holding the door open as Adele minces her way inside. Well. . she surely _demands _like his delightful little master, he'll give her that.

On cue, the head of the household appears, having grown impatience at his butlers prolonged dawdling of not having reported on who was at the door five minutes ago. He dresses in casual elegance today, stockings, garters, shorts and matching grunge green waist jacket over his high collared blouse. In his hand is his cane- he still walks with a stubborn limp from a run in with a water imp a few days prior.

"Sebastian, who is-"

The sentence is blown away as Adele- very unlady like- propels bodily into the petite boy. Ciel, not having reached the bottom step yet, topples over backwards in a flurry of lace and frills and excited girl. Sebastian winces at the sound of Ciel's skull smacking into the marble finishing of the stair well. Bodily bumps harm no souls, he repeats the mantra he's adopted as his master just _attracts_ trouble these days, and the demon simply can't fuss over ever little bruise Ciel gets. Or maybe it's to do with-

"Big brother!" Adele squeals, arms crushing around Ciel, pressing her rounded face into his clavicle. All the noise has attracted the other servants, and they curiously watch from the pillar shadows.

"When did the young master have a sister?" Maylene wonders out loud, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Certainly a dramatic predicament," Finnian adds, as if watching Shakespeare live. Getting a sharp glance from Sebastian, they quickly exit the room. No matter how interesting the scenario, they don't dare defy a Sebastian glare. He glides over, looking pityingly down as Ciel thrashes and exclamations of "get off me!-" "the _hell_ do you think you are?" escape his lips.

"Young Master, this is. . um," he gives him a helpless look, for the first time under Ciel's service, the demon is at a lost at what to tell him.

"Get her off of me!" he spits.

"At once," something he _can_ do. Sebastian grasps her arm, harder than necessary, and gives a sharp tug. Desperately, the girl clings to Ciel's lapels, staring into eyes so like her own. At once, Ciel stops moving, riveted to her face.

"Ciel, how could you forget me! Adele, your sister. It's _him_, isn't it?" she rounds on Sebastian, who pauses in his pulling so she can justify herself. "That demon's wiped your memory clean of me!" Sebastian's eyebrows raise, unsure if she means it in insult, or to what he really is.

"Is that true?"

"How can you ask th-"

"But _is_ it?"

"_No_. I've never deceived you, nor plan to in future. I would see no point in hiding the truth if you did still have a sister. I wouldn't gain anything from it," Sebastian explains with strained patience. Warning bells have been ringing in his ears since her very arrival. Ciel doubting him is the last straw in realising this little girl may not be entirely human.

"It's perfectly reasonable. If Ciel still had next of kin alive- he would see no purpose in continuing on with the contract," Adele explains simply, staring deep into Ciel's eyes. Sebastian catches a flash of her ring, glowing. "No revenge. He would be happy. His soul would _rot_."

This girl knows far too much-no- this _thing_ knows far too much.

Especially when she's hit the nail on the head. If Ciel had any family survivors, Sebastian knows it could cause a real threat to the main course that he has been slaving over for the last three years. Sebastian is _starving_. His entire being physical aches when he sees Ciel, scrounging up every last scrape of will power to not devour the boy ahead of schedule. The demon can't wait around for Ciel to cark it of old age and then take his soul- not even he is that patient.

"Enough," this time he pulls with enough strength to rip Adele off and fully intends to throw the creature out on her backside- before Ciel stops him.

"Sebastian! Release her," he growls. The seal prickles uncomfortably against his skin, and very slowly, Sebastian let's go, even if every demonic sense is screaming at him to disobey. Ciel shoots him a filthy look, and his visible eye is overly glossy. "Go make some tea- you're to treat my sister the same as me."

"Right away," Sebastian manages to grind out through his teeth, contract forcing him towards the kitchen. At least it will give him time to work out what to do next.

**42. Lie**

The seal on the back of his hand gives an almighty pulse, but Sebastian is already sprinting towards his master's bedroom before the warning- finally he's worked out what the hell is wrong with the girl. Shape shifter, hypnotic eyes, seducer. He round house kicks the door, presuming it had been bolted from the inside, and the oaken slabs surrender to him.

Ciel is where he had left him, on his four poster, moonlight spilling across the plush duvet and pillows. Adele is what is wrong with the picture. She's on top of her so called brother, holding his body up like a loving mother cradling their child during a nightmare. However there's nothing gentle about her now. Her grey hair snaps with electricity, curved horns grow from her temple and bend to touch at the back of her skull, skin a healthy red tint, leathery wings spread out over the bed and lizards tailed flicking in excitement. The succubus is in the process of ripping Ciel's soul from his body.

Sebastian has had a niggling fear this would start to happen. Demons from different realms were bound to sniff out a particular good soul and start knocking on his door- dying for a taste of it. He'd just been too arrogant to think it would happen so soon. Thought he was too well respected down below for them to try it- demon's have _no _respect in contract marked victums these days. And too stupid to warn Ciel a demon might charm him and order Sebastian to not harm her then attack at night.

"Oh _shit_," the unexpected curse falls from his lips, beautiful face transforming into something nightmarish. Sebastian lunges across the room in two impossibly fast strides, taking hold of the succubus's wing set and pulling hard. This is exactly why he doesn't go round flaunting wings. Leaves yourself wide open to nasty arse creatures like himself to rip them out by the roots. She screams, mouth wide open and full of bloody teeth. There is a terrible ring of puncture marks around Ciel's mouth.

Just seeing the damage is enough to tip Sebastian over the edge. Very little of his human shell remains, and it's painful to keep his demonic form up in the human realm for this amount of time. He bends the seductress right back, until the bones in her spine grind together. She shrieks at him, clawed hands tearing at his face and eyes. For the most part, it only bothers him. Taking care with his elongated nails, Sebastian pushes the now perfectly conscious Ciel face down onto the bed, turning him away from the oncoming slaughter. Ciel instinctively claps his hands over his ears.

He makes swift work of the demon, ripping out great chunks of her red flesh just for sadistic pleasure, tearing hair out by the fist fulls and sawing one of her majestic horns off- one of the gravest befoulments to a demon of her calibre- before sinking his teeth into her throat. Her blood is tasteless, body just an empty vessel. Her physical form becomes dust as her life form escapes, returning back to her own realm. Unfortunately it doesn't take the blood and disembowelled limbs away too.

With a painful grunt, Sebastian's writhing black skin settles back down, his eyes dimming to soft maroon and his gloves come back on.

Tactfully, he nudges the great bat wings, slabs of meat and pieces of horn off the bed. "Goodness, what a mess. I'm afraid you'll have to sleep elsewhere, young Master," Sebastian lets out a gush of held in air, acting as if Ciel has simply soiled the bed with spilt hot chocolate, not spilt innards.

The steel willed boy tries hard not to tremble as he raises his eyes to look up at his butler. One side of his face and back of his nightgown is soaked with blood spray. He stretches out a delicate hand to grip Sebastian knee. "Why did you let her in? You must have known what she really was, and you let her _right in_!"

"Young Master, believe it or not, you do not make my job an easy one," Sebastian narrows his eyes in displeasure. "However I am humbled enough to admit I should have warned you demons might come after you. Yet I can't do much after one charms you. Your orders- or her orders- were to treat her like I would you."

"But you-" crushed her, decimated her, bleed her dry. Killed her. Ciel swallows and tries to believe his orders were only valid when she was in little girl form. Sebastian silently agrees it best to leave that conversation at that.

"Look what she did to you," Sebastian frowns, lifting Ciel's face up to the light. The bite marks are angry looking and inflamed- thankfully her teeth weren't poison tipped. The wounds still bleed, and Sebastian leans down to instinctively lap the sticky trails up.

"That's disgusting, don't do that," Ciel pulls a face, trying to push Sebastian's head away.

"Demon spit has healing properties," he lies smoothly, finding he's unable to stop. His tongue rasps over the holes, blood having no flavour to his dead taste buds but can pick up traces of his soul deep within it. The equivalent to a human's stomach rumbles hungrily inside him. Ciel's eyes have gone wide, pentagram glowing hotly, cheeks flushing furiously.

"That has got to be the biggest load of bull that's come out of your mouth to date," the Earl says breathlessly, making his butler pause, tongue just touching under his parted lower lip. Well, well. Seems he's been caught out on his notoriously black coated tongue after all. Not that he'd ever thought Ciel was that ignorant to it.

"You wound me. Aren't I nothing but honest with you, my Lord?" Sebastian purrs, gently lowering Ciel down until his head touches one of the slightly cleaner pillows. He draws a finger over the lid of Ciel's blind eye.

"More like a cunning fiend who only does what suits his interests," Ciel mutters, averting his gaze from Sebastian's unwavering one. The demon's face and body is much too close for comfort.

"Then if you'll let me, I need to check for collateral damage. I promise it's for_ both _our interests," Sebastian smiles cheekily. He gets a suspicious glare, face still inflamed, and slowly Ciel allows his consent. Before Ciel can verbally chicken out at the last second, Sebastian presses his face that inch closer, replacing tongue with lips, and shock rolls off his master's body like a layer of sweat. His indignant mouth opens in protest, but deep within Sebastian chest cavity, something not human opens up, like a third lung. Sebastian parts his own mouth, intakes, drawing from Ciel's like a lit cigarette, pull strong enough to feel as if all Ciel's insides are being drawn upwards. He feels a tug on his arm in a feeble communication to stop.

He doesn't.

Sebastian can imagine Ciel's getting to the stage of seeing white spots and murky blackness. Just as Ciel's fingers start to slacken, and body unwind in defeat, Sebastian feels the spark he's been searching for. Ciel's soul has had quite a scare tonight, no wonder it's taken this long to relocate it. It flutters lightly as a caged bird, the demon backing off before he draws the precious thing out by accident.

At last he moves back and lets the boy gulp in air.

Before Ciel gets the chance to recover and reprimand, Sebastian scoops him up. "I also think it highly prudent you stay in my sights tonight. Incase her kind revenge after her." Ciel primly rolls his eyes, but doesn't say a word.


	7. Impuissance

**Happy Halloween guys! I love to dress up and cosplay, and so does Ciel **

**btw I'm looking for a beta. Anyone?

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**15. Weakness**

Jack-o-lanterns and fake skeletons hang outside.

Ciel elegantly makes his way down the grand stair case, high heels tap tapping on the cemented steps. His boots are hand crafted, jet black that hug his calves, and are laced up elaborately like a corset. A pig or cow or- _some_ barn yard critter- has died to make these possible. The curve leading up the sole extenuates the arc in a bare human foot, steeping further up into an almost four inch heel- they are uncomfortable as hell to wear.

Going upwards, his stockings are striped orange and black, garters holding them in place, which complements his solid orange waist jacket and black lacy blouse, clip on back piece repeating the symbolic colours of todays holiday in folds of beautiful silk and lace, trailing nearly to the ground. Intricately embodied on the waist jacket are tiny pumpkin heads and images of sweets. Crooked on his head is matching hat with cross pollinated orange and black pansies together with a toy pumpkin, lace and ribbons.

Clasped in black nailed hand is a pumpkin headed cane. And just for tonight, his normal eye patch has been replaced with wad of bleached leather in the shape of a grinning white skull.

But this is not the _p__ièce de résistance_ in Ciel's chic Halloween outfit. Mounted on his head and pushed through a sewn hole in his shorts are black cat ears and tail.

For once, Ciel isn't annoyed with his fiancé and Mademoiselle Hopkins- it had been she that had dressed him tonight- input for outfit choice.

Sebastian tries hard not to gawp. Or laugh. It's really to hard to tell.

He sweeps his throw over around his shoulders, thick material jostling his precariously perched hat. Sebastian rights it at once, hands none to subtly straying to one of the pricked ears, stroking the fake fur between a forefinger and thumb- simply a phantom feel through his gloves.

Ciel fakes an innocent glance up, and the hands magically disappear at once.

Customary, his place in the household doesn't call for dressing up like his master, this can't be said for his other. . less refined servants who wave them off by the door as they trundle away in their carriage, Mademoiselle Hopkins nodding in approval.

Ciel thinks this is exactly the kind of punishment Sebastian needs for hoarding all those strays in his closet. A punishment of resolve. Stubbornly, his butler looks out at the night scenery as they bounce along.

This won't do at all, Ciel realises and immaturely tugs on the silk ribbon around his neck, movements subtle, and it comes apart with ease.

"Sebastian," he calls, resting his cheek on a propped up palm, and those piercing maroon eyes snap to his at once. "Redo it."

He is quite literally tempting the devil.

"Ah, of course," Sebastian agrees, and if feeling any disconcert, he certainly doesn't let it show. Leaning across the small gap that separates them, the butler skilfully rights the upset fabric, eyes carefully trained on his busy hands- composed as ever. He gives the bow an experimental tug to test its durability, and finally his eyes glances up at Ciel's face. For a moment, his unsettling eyes lean towards glowing redder, wide pupils dilating slightly, body moving in closer.

"What is it?"

He knows perfectly well _what it is_. But _is_ surprised there's enough air between the two of them for his words to have come out so casually.

The carriage jolts as the wheels hit a rock in the road. This is what snaps the demon out of his trance. Stiffly, he leans back with a small apology, resuming his contemplation of the world outside.

Ciel hides a smile in the palm of his hand.

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At the Viscounts party, the mansion has been decorated with as much flare as an over the top wedding cake. The national holiday colours are everywhere, dining hall holds a great table laidened with as many sweets and pastries as if an entire shop has been brought out. The dance hall holds a live orchestra and the main party.

The nobles are all in costume, ranging from subtle black dresses and masks, to people wrapping themselves up in fabric like mummies, and over the top gowns with fabric as long as a twelve foot wall hanging.

As Sebastian steps from the carriage first, he dons a simple white eye mask with red jewels and material felt customising it. He helps his master down the steps with an offered hand.

"Let's get this over with," Ciel grumbles, genuinely unhappy with spending more social time with the Viscount- no amount of teasing his butler is worth it.

They step into the glowing entrance hall, a servant whisks his throw over to be stored with the other jackets and add on items- and they are main streamed through to the dancing hall. Picking up a glass of diluted wine to drink and to keep his mouth occupied from small talk, Ciel is nevertheless pounce upon by numerous lords and ladies.

He hardly noticed the hours have slipped away in the gossip.

He does notice Sebastian increasingly fidgeting state however. Ciel's unique costume has gathered a lot of attention, especially those of the female species, taking it to their leisure of even leaning down to give his fake ears and pat or playful tug, which Ciel takes with an out of character acceptance and gracious smile. His fly on the wall butler is clearly at his wits end with it.

As night wares on, the hall grows gloomier, interior only lit by massive amounts of candelabras full of beeswax candles and clumps of them around the room.

Then at last, the rope Sebastian has been clinging onto all night, snaps.

The room is plunged into perpetual darkness as all the flickering candles extinguish at the same time by an unknown source. Muffled cries and high pitched screams punctuate the suddenly threatening atmosphere.

Then a second later, the lights glow once more.

After a nervous stillness, tittering laughter and claps escapes the crowd- they believe it was a Halloween prank courtesy of the Viscount.

Nobody seems to notice the mysterious vanishing of the Phantomhive head.

In those moments of confusion, Ciel had felt himself being lifted, then a gust of wind as they moved through the Viscounts corridors at superhuman speed. Then the slam of a door and the smell of what Ciel presumed a broom closet smelled like when one is locked inside one- as he's never been in one before, he wasn't to judge.

Still in Sebastian's unrelenting grip, Ciel is lifted higher, sight hindered in the darkness. Neither snark or sarcastic comment greet him as Sebastian uses one arm and hand to press the boy closer, other groping much to down south which makes Ciel tense in surprise and throat close up traitorously on a command to stop.

Though he feels it a bit rich to order Sebastian to keep his hands to himself when he was aware and brought it on himself in the first place.

The fingers were only seeking out the attached tail, the sleek fur gliding through his digits. He's lost his gloves at some stage, it seems.

"S-sebastian," Ciel is not happy at all to find that it comes out small and choky.

"Mmm?" is the disinterested answer he gets, Sebastian to focused on bumping the hat off with his nose to better nuzzle at his hair and ears. "You haven't been nice at all tonight, have you, young Master?"

Ciel gives a stuttering noise of agreement, closing his eyes as Sebastian inhales as if sniffing fine wine. And Ciel wonders if he's taking in his natural scent, or the unnatural one of his soul. It's the latter. "As it's Halloween, and causing mischief is seen as a good thing today, I'll let you off," definitely the latter, if the sound of fangs clicking together is anything to go by.

"You don't have to," it slips out before he can store the words away for fantasy purposes only. His clumsily covers his mouth with both hands, as if to shove the traitorous words back down.

Sebastian's entire body appears to pause in thought, arm wrapped around the crook of his legs, other hand supporting his spine, fingering ticking the back of his neck, cheek still resting near his cat ears. His dark chuckle rumbles through from the top of his skull to his pinching toes.

"Who on earth taught you to talk like that, you naughty imp?"

Words completely fail Ciel, from post embarrassment or surprise is anyone's guess.

"Perhaps when where not in a broom closet nor in someone else's place."

For a ridiculous moment, Ciel wishes he did have a tail. He feels it would be quite appropriate to start wagging it.


	8. Soul Stealer II

**Author's note: Big thanks to Sennasanthia, my lovely beta ^_^

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**61. Grim**

They have estimated it takes Sebastian thirty full Mississippis to recover from a head shot. Fifty five if he's cleanly shot through the heart. Four hundred and twenty to regrow a limb, sometimes depending on what limb in question, so far regrowing from femur down has taken the longest. They've never tried decapitation before, simply because Ciel has a niggling feeling even Sebastian couldn't survive that one.

Neither question how it works, both know that as a demon Sebastian will never die a true death in the moral realm, and perhaps his body continuously regenerates because the pentagram wills it.

Now Ciel is running for his life- or perhaps soul is more accurate-with a rogue god of death right on his heels.

His soul has ripened to the stage that it has attracted the attention of a number of other realm demons, all wanting a taste of him. About a month ago, his own demon had warned him it might happen again, after their run in with a particularly sly succubus. Or particularly stupid Sebastian. Ciel likes the latter much more.

His shoes are impractical to run in, as he dodges down a grimy alley way, bursting out the other end and looks hopelessly to his left. Late night drunkards sway down the street, and few nobles having just finished their evening out return to carriages. It's not like any normal human can see a death god any way.

This one isn't like Grell, or his higher ups. It's eyes are tinted red instead of the typical ringed green, and it's death scythe is modelled into the form of a harpoon launcher, breaking the mold on gardening equipment. The tri pronged grapple fires. Ciel hits the cobbled street and skids ungracefully forwards, hearing the deadly thing slam into the concrete and bury itself with an explosion of grit and rubble. It just misses his right ankle.

"Here little mousy," it's disgustingly sweet voice croons from the alley shadows, and with a forceful grunt, tears the grapple up by the wire, reloading it.

Ciel's terror slowly rises.

He's been stuck in hundreds of equally dangerous places before. But this time. . . this time it's much more frightening when he lacks Sebastian. In three perfect pieces, Sebastian lies in someone's backyard, the death god having attacked with a proper garden scythe to handicap Ciel.

Ciel scrambles up, tearing open his knees and palms in his haste, and starts their cat and mouse game again.

As shop windows flash by, so do street signs, and Ciel starts to mentally form a map of the area- realising he knows where he is. Taking a right turn, then another, then a left, Ciel sprints down the main street of London, breath coming in painful gasps and he only stops when he hits his bleeding palms against the door of a familiar shop. _Undertaker_.

"Open up!" Ciel bellows, rapping hard and frantic, leaving smearing trails of blood on the wood- the door opens on the seventh hit and Ciel is snatched inside. The interior is almost pitch black, save for beeswax candles on coffins and mantel.

"Hello Earl. My goodness, what's that most alluring smell?"

His hands are held up, trapped by the wrists, and he feels some part of the Undertaker's face touch his palm. Ciel hastily snatches his bloody hands away from the man's grip, tucking them inside his sleeves. He always knew the guy had a few screws loose. The Undertaker almost mimics him, slipping his own hands Chinese style into his billowing cuffs. "Tis very late, almost the bewitching hour. Shouldn't little boys be asleep in their beds?"

Ignoring him, Ciel quickly bolts the door, leaning up against it, and at last can breathe easy. His father had always said go to the Undertaker whenever in dire need of assistance. The strange man might be. . well, strange, but is reliable and a good connection to have. "I'm in need of your assistance."

"Oh _ho_. What monster have you lured to my door step _this_ time, my sweet Earl? An angry flock of vampires for my coffins, a psychopath after ovaries and red head sodomite who gives death gods a bad name, or maybe there are more zombies craving for my rare treats?"

". . . that last one was entirely your doing," Ciel grumbles, flicking his sweat covered eyepatch up and rubbing away the grime.

"Yes well. . speaking of monsters, where is that butler of yours?"

Ciel's annoyed face smoothly dissolves to something much more unguarded. "I don't know," he says in a small voice. He knows where the _cadaver _lies, but not where the demon is. It is locked in limbo somewhere, or has it been sent down to Hell to recover and remake a new body? Or maybe it has simply abandoned him.

"This eye tells me something different," the Undertakes says, tipping Ciel's face and traces an over grown fingernail under Ciel luminous right eye socket. Self consciously, Ciel puts his eyepatch back in place. Is he being kind, is he trying to comfort me, Ciel thinks stupidly, before wood splinters from behind and something sharp slices through his hip. The boy screams, at once praying it has missed his liver and only hit flesh, bone and fat.

Wasting no time, the Undertaker rips Ciel away, deadly weapon already grinding back out from the hole it's made. There is about three seconds to spare before it is clamped back into place and swung back round to be fired again. In two strides, the Undertaker crosses the floor, kicking open a coffin and unfastens his tie around and uses it as a tourniquet for the free flowing wound in Ciel's side. Piteous, Ciel cries out as it's tied impossibly tight, cutting off his blood circulation and rubbing unpleasantly against his enflamed skin.

He's dumped inside the coffin, and the lid is closed over him.

At once Ciel tries to get a hold of his breathing- it will only pump his blood around faster and already he can feel the makeshift bandage grow damp. Next is the pain. Ciel bites his fist, stifling his whimpers and sobs, a few shocked tears sliding out from under his lashes. The serrated edges have carved up his skin, possibly clipped a few shards off his hip bone and bottom rib, and he hopes to God not struck his liver.

Around him, Ciel hardly notices the rumbles and crashes, crack of cartilage snapping and screams of someone dismembering another. The sound of something wet splashes up against the coffin. Then silence.

"You may come out, little Earl," the Undertaker coos from somewhere above.

Ciel tries to say that _no, I can not come out as I am dying in quiet agony here_, but instead wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes. The lid is removed, platinum hair strands tickling his face and the Undertaker gently lifts him- almost in a paternal gesture. The boy is placed on another coffin lid and the make shift bandage is removed. Ciel ignores the smears of death god all around the room.

"Is it bad?" Ciel whispers fearfully.

"Oh dear," the Undertaker sighs breezily, untucking Ciel's blouse from his shorts and bunching up the sticky material for a closer inspection. Ciel tries not to yelp as dried blood pulls on the stab wound, and flinches as the Undertakers icy hands ghost over the smooth panel of his stomach, fingers prodding at the stab in question. "Isn't this dreadful, we might have to amputate," he giggles, Ciel lifting a leg and kicking him hard- regretting it almost at once as hot pain jabs at his side.

"Be serious please."

"Tis only a scratch, who knew the Earl is such a girl when it comes to injuries. Liver is intact, you've lost a bit of blood and the blade may have hit your hipbone- you'll have a mighty fine bruise after the night is done. Let's stitch you up now."

Gossamer thread appears in the Undertaker's hands, needle joining it- and in five neat jabs, the wound is sealed up. Ciel lies on the lid to recover a little more, the Undertaker cleans up around him- picking up a severed arm and torso, picking smeared clumps of hair and skin off the wooden floors and over turning a pail of hot water on the blood stains.

"What makes a death god turn rogue?" Ciel wants to know, pale face turning to follow the man's movements.

"You don't want to know," the Undertaker says, in an entirely different voice than Ciel is used to. He dumps the remains in the pail, wiping his spidery fingers on his robes, flecks of blood having made it even to his fringe and cheeks. "Fear not, he shall be punished for his crimes."

"Didn't you just kill him though?"

"His mortal body perhaps. Death gods, like demons and other foul things you shouldn't know about, only borrow human shells for their time on earth. Their true form is much more frightening, and thankfully can't survive very long in such a form without at least tapping into a source of strong magic. So his 'soul' will find its resting place back in the death god realm- and there he will be found and put to trial. You see, nobody truly dies, Earl, even us humans. We might discard our bodies for a while, but when our souls fly off to greener pastures, as it were, you'll find those earthly limitations aren't needed there," the Undertaker summarises sagely, perching himself on his desk.

"I don't like how you speak of this, like you know it's for certain," Ciel frowns, well aware of where his soul is fated to end up- which begs the question of what will happen to him? Will he die a _true_ death, instead of being granted immortality up above like Christians preach about? Because the only place his damned spirit will be welcomed isn't any place with fluffy wings and halos.

"Where is your butler, will you tell me now?"

He supposes he has nothing to lose. Ciel sits up gingerly, blood rush making his head spin, and he blinks to clear the white dots that flash over his vision, feeling his long lashes curl on the inside of his eyepatch. "Cleanly cut into segments, scattered around someone's backyard for the crows to have," Ciel says, off hand, even though his gut gives an uncomfortably squeeze when he voices it out loud.

The Undertaker laughs, sound like an evil witches cackle. He flicks his fringe, enough to reveal glowing eyes and more of his wire cut scar. "That sly devil must be getting old if he couldn't even handle a death god."

Ciel omits the fact Sebastian had to deal with the handicap of protecting him more than he would have to if it was any ordinary attacker- he's seen the insides of wooden crates and smelly trashcans more than any raccoon has.

"Well, we can't waste any more time then," the Undertaker says briskly, Ciel not entirely sure what he's getting at. "Help me burn this first, for if we don't, the body parts may join back together and he might just come back to life."

**80. Relief**

Sebastian is right where he'd left him, tangled legs by the back fence, torso near the garden shed and shoulders and head under a rose bush. The Undertaker shoos a cat away from licking at the bloody arm stumps, dumping each segment of the demon into a burlap sack. He tightens it together with thick string. Ciel stays docile on the street corner, street lamp casting his face into eerie shadows, not having the stomach to look at the remains.

Back at the Undertaker's shop, the man jigsaw pieces Sebastian back together, frowning when his left bicep doesn't quite match up with his elbow joint. Ciel tries not to vomit on the spot. He leans heavily against the door- remembers what happened the last time he did that- so instead crouches near the Undertaker's shelf full of morally incorrect medical books.

String and needle whisk back out, and in clean, even strokes, the Undertaker stitches Sebastian up as if he's a fallen apart zombie.

The entire process takes little over half an hour, at last he stands back and wipes his mucky hands on his robes. "Good as new," he proclaims, giving the lifeless corpse a tweak on the nose.

"Fantastic. Now I have something to bury in the ground," Ciel blurts out, having meant to have keep his emotions to himself. The Undertaker smiles mischievously, but says no more. To occupy himself, he glides over to his desk, belts on his leather boots catching in the light, and he roots around in his drawers in hunt of something.

Cautiously Ciel rises from his defensive position, tripping over to his butler's body. The Undertaker has done the nicety of closing his eyes. The Earl ghosts his own eyes over Sebastian's pale face, tuffs of hair missing, nose broken, to his torn outfit and lavish amounts of blood stains. _You were supposed to stay by my side forever!_ He wants to shriek, hit and cry over the corpse, but dares not in front of an audience. Instead he pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth and says nothing.

"It's almost dawn. I'll come back and fill out the paper work in the afternoon," Ciel says flatly, tearing himself away and readies himself to go.

Before his fingers can even graze the doorknob, a violent movement from behind attracts his attention, and Sebastian sits bolt up right, coughs, and lets out a blood clot the size of a man's fist. "Dear _God_," he splutters, glaring unkindly at the Undertaker, whose grin almost splits his face. "Could you have at least lined my bones up properly?" as he says it, he raises his left arm, twisting it and letting the bones snap and splinted back into their rightful place. Hair grows back fast – tests prove it only takes seconds for that to happen- he cracks his nose back into alignment, bruising and swelling blooms swiftly, fifteen seconds later they clear and his face is flawless as marble again. From the gaps in his clothing, Ciel can see his skin netting together as if a spider is spinning her threads. In five minutes, the healing process will be complete. Sebastian swings his leg's off the coffin lid, testing out each limbs in turn. As he rotates his wrist, Ciel stomps up to his side.

He raises a hand and strikes Sebastian hard across the face.

Mouth set in a hard line, Ciel's blue eye shimmers with undulating feeling. He's not sure if he trusts himself to speak.

"I apologise, young Master," Sebastian says promptly, not even touching the rosy cheek- ten seconds the mark heals over and is perfectly white again. Ciel wants to hit him again, and again, irrationally frustrated at no matter what marks he puts on his butler, it simply washes away in minutes. "I've caused you a grave inconvenience. It won't happen again."

With a curt nod, Ciel turns away, wrenching open the door and is quickly swallowed up by early morning London fog.

"He's shy," the Undertaker unexpectantly says. Sebastian gives the man a bemused smile, dips his head in thanks, then follows his master before something else befalls him.


	9. Consternation

**Author's Note: First off- .com/u/754082/PrincessRue some shameless plugging for my joint novel with my friend :3 check us out and tell us what ya'll think.**

**Bit of a delay, cus it's xmas and I picked up some holiday work to get some money and all round just busy. Thanks for being patience with me. Here be the daddy-complex prompts. Hey, you guys knew they would come some time xD**

**Big thanks to my beta, Sennasanthia**

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**24. Fear**  
The demon steps off it's plinth, eyeing up the devotees, smelling cooper all around and the leak of a young soul across the floor. It's glowing eyes settle on the small child. Blood has spewed across the alter, over the sides and away in a frothy, sticky mess, the open gash across his chest still pumps more and more out, beautiful wide eyes diming like somebody has blown a small breath over a candle.

This pathetic creature has called it?

It's heel splashes through the dregs of his life force, face bending low to study the almost hollow shell of a human. Body convulses atop the alter suddenly, as the last of his nerves die out, eyes rolling and mouth wide in gagged screams, fingernails clawing as he drowns in agony, primitive mind terrified out of its wits.

The demon doesn't have to concentrate hard to hear the boy's thoughts.

He mewls pitifully out to it, reaching, blinding wanting and craving it's protection. Already signing his soul away. O_h god, someone help me, help me, help me. It's hurts, father, father- DADDY, I'M SCARED!_

**71. Survive**

Neither of them have spoken a word since the incident. His master suffering from delayed shock and himself taking the cliché of speaking only when being spoken to, literally.

Unsure of where they are, Sebastian carries the child out, bleeding, exhausted and wearing only a throw over he has scrounged up from the filthy human pit. He starts to shiver as soon as they get outside, the night at its peak, moon veiled in clouds.

Sebastian doesn't halt, but his head cocks from side to side, assessing the immediate area- behind is a noble's gothic styled mansion, in front a meandering stone pavement: beyond that is the beginnings of a Red Riding Hood forest- and he can safely assume civilisation is quite a way off, even at a demons' fast sprint.

Is he. . .the last time he'd come here was nearly two hundred years ago. It seems the human race has still not learnt to grow up.

The small stutters from the bundle in his arms grow more frequent, more violent, his master's body gradually growing hotter, chest wound not appearing to clot. Uncomfortably, he makes a move to push the fur trimmed cloak away.

Stubbornly, Sebastian is forced to hold it in place, quickly moving towards the woodlands. If his master for all of five minutes bleeds to death, it would certainly look bad contract wise. He coughs suddenly, and asks in a quavering voice "Daddy?"

Just what he needs, the boy to start hallucinating or seeing dead phantoms around him. All though there appears to be no sign of a death god, so perhaps he is in luck. He risks a glance down- the boy is looking at _him_. _Oh_. Named after his dog and in the form of his father. His new master certainly has strange tastes. Or likes a good joke.

Sebastian realises he doesn't know his name yet.

Not replying, he hits the forest, pushing further inside and only stops when he can no longer see the burning human lair. Taking care to remember that humans are more fragile than robust demon bodies, Sebastian lays the boy down, lowering the cloak to inspect the grim looking wound.

The cut is clean, surprisingly so, as the human who had cut him had been intoxicated. It's deep however, just a hair's breathe from hitting his heart. Blood still beads and spills from the skin flaps, a sheet of blood has dried over the boys concaved throat, if he doesn't stop the flow soon- His master starts to thrash, face twisting in pain and he makes a high pitched keening sound.

"Well, isn't _this_ a bitch?"

Sebastian's growl is feral, crouching over his master like an aggravated tigress. From the tree tops falls a young male, appearance of a boy younger even than his master. He wears what Sebastian presumes to be the style of this century. Shorts, suspenders, waist coat. Square wired glasses sit on his snub nose. His eyes are double ringed green- a death god.

The demon isn't familiar with the scythe he holds, being two hundred years out of date really is a handicap. The death god has to hold them in both hands, gripping the handles, and the twin set blades end in cruel looking curves. They look like a giant X and look built for lopping heads off at the spine.

"This child's soul was dated to be lost ten minute ago," the death god rudely informs him, nose in his charter. "But it looks like some greedy demon bet me to the punch. The Aboves will _not_ be pleased. So you better step aside unless you want me to reap your sorry arse."

"How rude," Sebastian sniffs, not moving an inch even with the threat. He keeps his fangs in check. "Do not come between the wolf and his prey," he quips, and the death god looks livered. "The contract has been made, my master consented, there is nothing you can do to claim this soul now. And unless you let me tend to his wounds, _nobody_ will be getting it," he adds, hearing the weak thump of the child's struggling heart.

Keeping a close watch on the stationary death god, Sebastian lowers his face down to his master's chest. It barely rises.

"If you take it-"

He sighs. He really despises the death god race. Paranoid at the best of times. "I'm not _going_ to take it. It's still so young after all," he chuckles, and carefully licks away the obscuring blood. The coppery splash of blood is numbed to his demon taste buds but very faintly he can taste the unusual flavour of the human soul. Like the many other souls he's devoured over the centuries, it has the ordinary blandness of what he's labelled as a common breed. And Sebastian might have missed it if he wasn't cleaning off so much blood, but there, hidden under the mundane, is a tiny spark of _something_.

He can tell that this little master of his is going to be full of surprises.

**20. Hands**  
As Ciel rides out his raging fever, he subconsciously seeks out Sebastian's hand and doesn't let go of it till the delusional day terrors leave him be.

**81. Delirious**

"Father. . .daddy."

The tiny sound like a kitten's pathetic mewl crawls out from the very depths of the bed covers. Ciel's face is just visible, small and flushed against the white of the sheets. His asthma attack had been quite bad, leaving him vomiting and hyperventilating on the ground, at last developing into a fevered flu that has only recently subsided.

Drapes have been drawn, and candle stick light illuminates them intimately- Sebastian realises his master is addressing _him_. His miscoloured eyes are hazy and liquid, not entirely there.

The demon decides to indulge him.

Putting down the crystal jug of water, Sebastian glides to Ciel's side, lowering himself down onto one knee. He has seen portraits of the late Earl. There is an uncanny resemblance between them.

**95. Weight of the World**

"Am I doing the right thing, father?" Ciel wants to know, and the frail tug on his sleeve makes him glance down inquiringly. Sebastian has taken the name and form of a wide array of humans over the years- men, woman, children, dark skinned and light, been a sibling, mentor or assistant depending on his master's tastes- but has never once adopted a parental role to a master so little.

Demons take the guise of whatever their master feels most comfortable around. Why not mother, why father?

Sebastian gently runs his fingertips over Ciel's knuckles. "I can't make that decision for you."

"But I've strayed so far off the path you set down for me," Ciel whispers, clearly distraught. Confused tears slowly slide down his temples and into his hair, and Sebastian watches in fascination as his temple strong master crumple inwards in a matter of seconds. "I don't know what's right, and what's wrong anymore! I've thought for so long that revenging against those would give both me and your soul's peace of mind- but I'm starting to see how childish that is now. It's so ironic," he ends with a rasping sob, clutching at his miserable eyes with his palms.

"Young Master. . ." simply at a loss for words, Sebastian awkwardly strokes the boy's tense hands and forearm.

Ciel's next breath comes in as a wheeze, then another, closer together, frightened- he's about to fall into another asthmas attack, Sebastian realises. Swiftly, he pulls Ciel up against him, curving his spine into the appropriate sitting position. This close, he can hear his lungs ache in effort to regulate, diaphragm shuddering and nose sniffing to stop his tears.

In slow circles, the butler rubs a palm therapeutically over his back.

"Nobody can say what is right, and what is wrong," Sebastian murmurs into his hair. "Only _you_ can say what is true. You're old enough to stand on your own two feet now."

The rattling in Ciel's chest evens out after a period, and he wearily moves his weak body to press his face to Sebastian's neck and cling to his lapels. "I miss him, Sebastian."

Ah. He's snapped out of his hallucination.

"If you want, I could. . ." he gives a discrete cough.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ciel presses a heartless smile to his skin. Well. . he's only doing what demon's do _best._ Seduce. Thirteen is practically consensual in the eighteenth century, isn't it? "Men are driven into madness by conjuring up imaginary spirits or holding onto inherit items. Why would I do the same thing?"

"Perhaps because you can fool yourself better than others," Sebastian smiles, and very briefly, the skin under his left eye tightens as a beauty spot comes, then goes. "I've served many other masters with. . . _interesting_ tastes," he chuckles slightly. He brushes back Ciel's thick fringe and gets in a kiss before Ciel wriggles away.

"S-Sebastian," he mumbles, pulling the covers over his red nose in an embarrassed gesture. Sebastian notices he doesn't order him away. For once he's caught his master out in a moment of weakness.


	10. Soul Stealer III

**Author's Note: Okay. Everyone might wanna take a few moments to re-read Kiss the Gunner's Daughter. Cus I make a few references from that chapter in here. So if Sen was confused when I sent her this chapter, then you guys will be too. This was written a few weeks before Ronnies magnificent zombie headshotting appearance was made. I totally called his personality. **

**If any of you are interested, Kiss the Gunner's Daughter can now be read in French! www. fanfiction .net/s/6576253/1/ I've been getting some interesting comments about it. **

**Big thanks to by beta Sennasanthia**

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**93. Opportunity**

The day Sebastian collapses, Ciel can't say he was particularly surprised, yet hadn't seen it coming quite so soon either.

Cutlery and fragile glasses had smashed, translucent and porcelain shards dusted the carpet like a diamond coat. His butler was prostrate on the ground, breathing abnormally shallow and fast, abnormal especially for a demon who could dead sprint and keep it up for half an hour and not throw up after doing so. Especially for a being who supposedly _didn't_ breathe.

He'd seen it coming, because as frigid as Ciel acts, he still keeps a careful eye on all his valets' well being. Over the last few weeks, maybe even a month now, he has watched Sebastian's chalk white face slowly change to a hue of curdled milk, swaggering walk tamed and eyes squinting as if suddenly developing short sightedness. He's certainly dropped, misplaced and forgotten many things over this short time period.

And at last the day comes when the puppeteer behind Sebastian relaxes his grip on his strings- and the demon simply topples over without a sound.

Ciel manages to round up Tanaka and the chef's help- because where on earth does he hide all that weight- and gets the docile demon into his bed chamber. He also manages enough lies- _he's been over worked, he just needs some rest_- to assure Tanaka he doesn't need a physical examination. That could led to all sorts of awkward questions- _no heart beat you say, that's. . .um. . ._

He makes sure the door is firmly closed and footsteps gone before he starts talking.

The room is as white and as boring as the other two times he's been in here. He wonders if Sebastian has kicked the habit of sneaking in cats yet. He can check another time.

"So. What's wrong with you?" the Earl inquires, not asking how he is, because the answer is written all over his face. "This isn't some kind of. . demon disease, is it?"

"No, we can only get sick in our own realm," Sebastian smiles thinly. "Even then it rarely happens. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

Which they both know is a load of bullshit.

Ciel waits, counting out the seconds. He gets to three hundred. He'll give Sebastian some credit. He makes a good attempt of getting up. Before his cheeks tinge blue, and he falls right back over onto the pillows.

"_Now_ will you tell me?"

"I've told you before that I've given up on regular human souls," Sebastian finally gives in, subtly not looking at him, uncomfortable as always to directly address his demonic tendencies. Ciel nods impatience. _Get on with it_. "That being the case, I haven't. . eaten, in a _long _time."

Ciel is reminded that his definition of long and Sebastian's, are two entirely different things.

"Demons can survive for a good few decades without consuming souls, depending on the quality and stockpile," he makes it sound like he's talking about the economy ratings of Phantomhive. "But this is in the Netherworld. In the human realm, our magic and power is cut in half- reverting back to my true form, and healing myself constantly in the time I've been with you has probably taken many years off my, er, expiry date, if you will."

"In other words, you're dying?" so this is how it ends. Not with a bang but a pathetic squelch.

"Not for a few more years. I'll simply be too weak to more from this spot until I just rot away. It's a pretty messy process, truth be told. Unless. . ."

Ciel sighs. He had seen this coming. "Unless I find you an entree to tide you over until the main course."

If the conversation wasn't awkward before, _now_ it most certainly is.

He should really be taking advantage of the situation. If Sebastian ceases to be- the contract will be null- he'll keep his soul until the day he dies. However. . . no matter what hitmen and sleuths he hires, none will get the job done like his demon. Nobody but he has the power to fulfil his desire of revenge.

The truth certainly is hard to take.

**19. Life**

The sun has started to bleed across the horizon, slate concrete and ruddy bricks shadowing the London streets like smears of expressionist brush strokes. Ciel is the only figure tripping down the broad walk, cloak snapping around his shoes and top hat making his silhouette look like a bean pole scarecrow in the growing twilight.

He pauses outside the eleventh door from the street sign. Raising a knuckle, he only knocks once before the door springs open and a pale hand snatches him inside. This has happened the last three times he's had the misfortune of crawling here on his stomach for help.

"Lock the door," the Undertaker mutters in a distracted way, platinum sheet of hair tied messily up into a pony tail that looks oddly out of place on him. His moth eaten top hat is as ever perched crookedly on his head, shading his eyes from sight.

Nervously, Ciel does as he asks, before taking a careful seat on a –mercifully- empty coffin.

Still prancing around his shop, the Undertaker grabs fist fulls of what appear to be hiking equipment. Rope, ice pick, nails, hammer. .

"Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all, Earl. If you would just give me three minutes, I just have to finish dealing with my other customer," he reassures him, bending to search under his desk, rump high in the air.

"Other customer, what do-Jesus goddamn _Christ_!-" as his eye drifts around the room, there, in the dark corner, is a faceless man, who had certainly _not_ been there a moment ago. At once, Ciel tries to scramble up, but also move backwards at the same time, resulting in tripping over the coffin edge, smacking his head on the book shelf behind him.

It's like one of those irrational fears you have as a child.

Waking up in the middle of the night and seeing. . . a _thing_ in the darkest corner of the room, ready to rush at you with white hands out. Yet it doesn't. It simply stares. And try as you might, you can't-

"Are you alright?" The Undertaker asks, monotone, peering over the lip of the desk.

Shakily, Ciel stands, gazing at the ghostly figure. His face is nightmarish. Perfectly blank, deep indents of where eyes should be, a small mound for a suggested nose, mouth a grim line of stitches. He dresses in black robes, peaked hood pulled lower on his face. Ciel can see right through his transparent feet to the grimly wall behind. He shivers like a hand has trailed down his back.

He simply stands there, not stirring or breathing. Just. . existing in that little corner.

"Oh. . this is Pete," The Undertaker introduces them. Ciel cautiously inclines his head, the phantom doing nothing in return. "He's a Spectra from the death god realm. If he was to talk to you, not only would you not understand the demonic gibberish, his language is spoken so fast for a human ear to listen to, it might rupture your ear drums. His job is to watch over the records in their realm."

"Er. . nice to meet you?" it comes out like a question. The listless figure doesn't appear to be causing him harm, so Ciel sits back down. He can deal with demons and imps and slavering werewolves, but ghosts are another matter entirely.

His skin doesn't stop itching until the Undertaker hands over the desired items, and bids the figure goodbye. And when Ciel blinks, Pete has vanished from the corner.

**89. Question**

"You wouldn't, erm, that is to say. . .happen to have any bottled souls under that table, would you?"

**67. Misguided**

It's almost the next best thing.

In the Scotland Yard headquarters, with much under ground strings pulled from Lau and the Undertaker, Ciel walks away with a convict.

He's tied to the back of the coach, and is made to jog to keep up with the horses trot, all the way from London to the mansion. He passes out from exhaustion about three quarters of the way there. Ciel says to drag him- the roads are smooth enough to only graze his skin and bruise. He won't be alive for much longer anyway.

The coach rounds the curve in the kilometre long driveway, and Ciel stares morosely out the window, cheek in palm.

Is he doing the right thing? The convict was going to be hung tomorrow morning, but does offering him up to Sebastian make it right? Nervously, Ciel nibbles on his lower lip, pressing his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth.

Sebastian talked about the quality of souls. Is the one he's going to give met the mark? What makes a _good_ soul in a demon's eyes. Apparently his is becoming quite the celebrity in the demon worlds- a tormented boy, who lies and bullies and kills people who are in his way- are these the qualities of what makes a soul good?

Maybe it's not _just_ that.

In his life before the incident, he had been surrounded by love and kindness, been guided in what his parents believed was the right direction, so perhaps being touched by so many different emotions and experiences is what has made his soul round and fit for a king.

The gravel crunches under the wooden wheels, and at last they stop.

Time to find out.

**77. Play**

The convict is gagged, hands shackled behind his back, eyes wide and confused as he's dragged into Sebastian's bed chamber. Ciel throws him belly down onto the bed.

"Alright. How are we doing this?" he asks, removing his leather gloves in two quick flicks.

"Just hold him down," Sebastian says, words tired. He's graciously accepted he doesn't have the strength left to keep a grown man pinned and extract his soul at the same time. "And roll him over please."

Ciel sits heavily down on the man's knees, keeping his legs from thrashing then tentatively puts his hands on his wriggling shoulders. Muffled, obviously distressed, grunts come from behind the gag, and the convict must _feel_ something change in the room, because his eyes flood with panicked tears. Sebastian slowly draws back the covers, eyes closed in concentration, moving his body like a tired old turtle.

When he opens his eyes again, they glitter like shattered rubies. And when his mouth parts, rows of angled teeth are revealed through ropes of saliva.

Ciel feels himself freeze in his own moment of terror, knuckles white on the convict's shoulders and he dares not take his eyes off the advancing predator.

_Fwip. Fwip_. Sebastian removes his gloves, deadly claws revealing themselves and he places one below his prey's ribcage. His forehead gently brushes against Ciel's own, and the Earl represses a shudder- his flesh is icy to the touch.

"Little boys should really close their eyes," the demon purrs, in a voice Ciel has heard only once before. He draws in a harsh breath, tasting ash and sulphur in the air.

"You dare order me? Know your place, you filthy beast," Ciel rasps.

Smirking, Sebastian nods. In once swift moment, his claws jerk, puncture, and rotate. All in one fast, impossible action. The man's rib cage splinters, blood spluttering, and Ciel's tilts his face away, but not enough to keep from watching.

It truly is a fascinating process.

Sebastian removes the gag, and does something with his digging hand, making the man choke. Ciel realises he's just crushed his heart. His eyes flutter, and his lips part. Quickly, Sebastian leans down, sinking his fangs deep into the man's mouth, catching the soul before it moves away.

"Oh my, this won't do."

Ciel jerks in surprise, head swivelling at once. He'd been so focused, he hadn't even heard him enter. A death god is primly standing in the corner, lips quirked in interested. "I've never seen that before," he admits in a carefree voice, double ringed eyes flashing behind thick glasses.

"I know you," Sebastian says, voice salted, licking at his lips slightly to get rid of any stains. The corpse beneath them both is already growing cold. It makes Ciel feel slightly sick. "Haven't you grown up?"

"Hn?" the blonde tips his head back, eyes searching to the left- into his memory. "Oh. Ah! That kid," he blinks, having touched on the distance memory, like the ocean tide. "You've been good to not have eaten him up yet," he congratulates.

". . _what is going on?_" Ciel interrupts, not at all impressed to be left out of the loop.

"How rude of me. Ronald Knox," the death god smiles charmingly again, putting a hand to his chest. "I was supposed to take your soul," he adds, pointing to Ciel. "And maybe one day I will."

Time is a fickle creator in the death god realm. Shifting and changing quickly, ten times the fold in the human realm. Ronald made have been a child when he'd first met the hungry demon and its prey, yet now he stands in the room as a young man, scythe with an upgrade, and a deeper look in his eyes. Like he'd seen the outside world at last.

"You seem to have a bad habit of taking my charges," Ronald says, bright attitude slipping subtly, grip tightening on the handle of his lawn mower. Sebastian narrows his eyes, muscles tightening. "If I don't take a soul, my Boss is gonna kill me," he smiles innocently, kicking his scythe suddenly. It roars into life. "So I might just take yours instead!"

Sebastian barrel rolls with Ciel off the bed, protecting him as best he can. The bed explodes as Ronald slams into it, bits of wood, material and bloody body parts flying everywhere. Fluff settles in his blonde hair, and he irritably licks away a splatter of blood on his lips. "Oops. That's gonna cost," Ronald laughs, not sounding bothered by it in the slightest. With a guttural roar, the lawn mower spins, and pounces upon its victims, Sebastian screaming at it swallows his left leg whole. Suddenly the blades stop. "Oh. _Oh,_very good," Ronald purrs in delight, loving the challenge. The blades have been jammed by the demon's tough thigh bone. He smiles, strained.

"Thank you."

Ciel watches in slight horror, clutching onto Sebastian for dear life. ". . demons don't have life streams."

"What was that?"

"If you kill him, he'll just come back." He can't believe he's talking to the creature. It's clearly out of its mind.

"Yes. I know," Ronald smiles. His face may be angelic, but the smile is anything but. "I've had lots of experience with demons. It's great fun. To hear them scream, cry, _beg_, over and over, as I splatter their brains on the ground a dozen times over. It never gets old, you see. You're not the only one with monsters in their closets, kid."

Ciel suppresses a shiver at those last words. Those are said with such sincerity, he doesn't doubt for a second something terrible has happened to Ronald along the bumpy road of life.

And he's about two seconds away from smearing Sebastian all over the ground because of it.

Their saving grace comes in the form of hedge clippers, smacking into Ronald's neck. The young death god doubles up with a yelp, clutching at the back of his neck. ". . I had that. I _earned_ that fucking five minutes."

"Oh? The bed as well?"

"_Especially _the bed," Ciel sees the smile on his lips. Crouched on the window ledge is the very familiar figure of William, ever the cookie cut businessman. His sterile eyes brush over them, as if they are simply cattle in a field. He jerks his head at Ronald, default frown smoothly in place. No words have to be said. They have obviously been around each other for so long, they've perfected it to an art.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Ronald brightly tells them, taking a good grip on his scythe. Ciel is immediately reminded of himself. From a long time ago. In the low glow of the library lights.

_Take off your shirt. _

Unnecessarily, Ronald pushes the blades in as if to wiggle it around for better leverage, making the demon hiss before pulling out. The noise is dreadful. Like when you plunge your hands into a bowl full of thick, clotted sewer water- _squelch ._

"_Knox_."

"I'm done," he gives a breezy grin to his superior, waving away his scythe. "Let's play again," he smirks over his shoulder at them both, mounting the window and disappearing in a flash of portal light.

"I think I just lost another year off my life," Sebastian mutters, wincing as he leans down to assess the state of his butchered leg. His pant leg are mere ribbons, skin spiked and shredded. His foot has been crunched into an unrecognisable stain, his femur no better. Blood smears the ground, thin wisps of veins and arteries running dry. A spider web crack runs up his. . Ciel doesn't even recognize the bone anymore.

Ciel lets go of his waist, standing awkwardly. "So. Do you feel better?"

As if those last moments hadn't just happened. Proving that nothing would rumple the proud Earl's feathers.

"Oh. Very much so."


	11. Whit

Thanks again to my beta, Sen!

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**2. Soft**  
Up the rickety steps that led off from number nine Winchester Avenue, and at the second door on the landing is Mademoiselle Hopkins studio. Here there are wardrobes over flowing with stiff material, generous amounts of lace draping like shimmering cobwebs, ribbons streamed haphazardly and hundreds of chic accessories; tumbling out from low drawers and scattered over the floor are shoes of every kind imaginable, leather casts of boots, stockings with high frills, silk that's as soft as rabbit ears and slips through your fingers just as finely and great mats of cut felt.

And this is just the front room. Out the back are docile mannequins dressed up in outrageous outfits, hats and neck ties, more hang from the ceiling as the army of wardrobes out here cannot possibly consume them all. The Madame's work beach can't be seen under the files of patterns, scattering of pins, rolls of thread, string and measuring tapes- ordered chaos.

As butler and Master wearily make their way up the health hazard stairs as their once a month ritual requires, Sebastian can't help a fond sigh upon sighting the familiar room, thinking that, frankly, humans definitely knew what they were doing when it came to fashion.

Ciel on the other hand, grits his teeth and braces himself for the next two hours.

**3. Pain**  
Ciel feels a deep, stabbing sensation close to his sternum whenever Sebastian moves out of his sight, even if it's for a moment. He's come to accept his irrational feelings of not wanting to lose anybody else close to him, and doesn't try to fix it.

**4. Potatoes**  
The demon is used to snuffing out life, not giving it. He feels something odd stir within him when the first shoots of planted flowers, baby bumps of potatoes and strawberries poke up from the ground after having planted and cared for them a few months ago.

**5. Rain**  
As per normal, Sebastian opens his carriage door for him, black umbrella raised as the heavens weep herself dry.

**6. Chocolate**  
"Young Master, your manners are atrocious."

Ciel rudely ignores the chide, legs crossed primly on his high back chair, and makes his statement by loudly sucking on his chocolate covered fingers, remains of the cake mere crumbs on his plate, the rest having worked their way across his cheeks and down his front.

Sebastian's annoyed because he can't reprimand him further, because according to the unspoken laws of the universe, you can do whatever you want on your eleventh birthday.

**7. Happiness**  
Ciel remembers happiness being the act of rolling over and over on the recently mown lawn out back, hot sun overhead and smell of everything that said _home_. It would make him sneeze from his allergies; but put up with it because the sound of blue jays, Lizzie's laughter and his mother's and father's quiet murmurings were worth the red eyes and running nose.

Now he finds happiness in the terror of rolling eyes and sweating faces, hastily scrambling fingers in the act of escaping as he rams his pistol into his victim's heads. The quiet explosion, smell of gunpowder and acrid splash of blood nothing but sweet.

**8. Telephone**  
Ciel has Sebastian cut the phone wire after the fifth call from Soma this week.

**9. Ears**  
He wails loudly as the scotched wire pierces through his earlobes, teeth clamping down hard on the offered piece of cloth. His butler's soothing words of _it's a mark symbolizing your leadership of the family_ bring a watery smile to his face.

**10. Name**  
Neither speak as Sebastian escorts him to his room, one that mirrors his old, burnt to cinders one, that only wisps of caged off memory sometime allow him to see. The distraught young boy hasn't uttered a sound from his command of _kill them_ months ago. Respectfully, neither has he.

_One, two, three_ buttons are done up in his night gown, and Sebastian tucks him in with a murmured; "Goodnight, little one," his first words in a long time. Before he can leave, a demanding hand tugs hard at his swallow tails.

"Call me that again, and you can sleep outside where the dogs are."

"Understood, my Lord."

**11. Sensual**  
Coming home battered and bruised from a night of supernatural shenanigans, even Ciel is tempted to use his butler's name in good virtue when he runs a hot bath for him, scenting it with oils and candles, just what his sensitive body craves for.

**12. Death**  
At five years old, Ciel cries earnest tears when he discovers his pet budgie lying at the bottom of its cage, eyes closed peacefully and wings spread as if in broken flight. "'Tis only mortal death, beloved," his father assures him sweetly, kissing the nape of his neck, and Ciel closes his eyes as the first shovel of dirt hits the corpse, staining it's yellow feathers an ugly brown.

**13. Sex**  
Lectures for Physical Education are a lot more interesting when Sebastian uses himself as a live model.

**14. Touch**  
A frost from last night covers the ground, and Ciel's dainty high heels skid as he taps his right boot to the icy ground from the carriage step. In an up draft, the umbrella leaps from Sebastian's slackened grip as he lurches forwards, priorities in order.

He catches Ciel round the middle, one hand spread over his thin back in support, Ciel himself gripping Sebastian's arm as if life depends on it, cheek bumping comically into Sebastian's chest. Both appear equally surprised, at Ciel's clumsiness, the prolonged closeness almost crossing the line of being awkward as neither of them do anything about it.

"M-moron," Ciel snorts as he angrily brushes his butler away, feinting annoyance at the loss of the umbrella, face only turning scarlet when his back is turned.

**16. Tears**  
Elizabeth sobs when she first sees her fiancée after months of not hearing a word, throwing herself almost prostrate at his feet, thick lashes catching her fat tears before they roll down her porcelain cheeks and disappear from sight.

Sebastian looks down from his towering height, silently thinking how pitiful she looks.

**17. Speed**  
Set for one hundred and fifty degrees Celsius. Separate egg yolks from the whites, add in half a cup of milk- slowly add in the dry ingredients and stir to a doughy consistency.

Deal with fire in the pantry, broken chandelier in the east wing and the weed killer that's been poured over top the newly budded roses.

Start the base of the frosting, hot water, sugar, churned butter and cream. Next is the food colouring. Take the cupcakes out before they become over cooked and leave to cool.

Double check tonight's dinner that looks like it's been attacked by a dragon, re-set the table that has wine stains all through it and smashed cutlery, make sure that young sapling doesn't topple over and shattered the second story library window.

Decorate the cupcake tops with well rehearsed designs and flourishes, begin the sprinkles and other ornaments to finish the job.

Throw all incompetent employers into the wine cellar- gagged and bound- and remember to release them once night has fallen. Chase out the remains of livestock that have snuck into the mansion while the doors have been left open due to certain unmentionable people.

Pick up the silver platter.

Still make it in time to serve up today's snack before his Master has time to ring the bell. Phew!

**18. Wind**  
Ciel's hair flies back off his face, daring enough to raise both hands to the sky as his father puts his foot down on the accelerator and _drives_.

**21. Taste**  
The first time Sebastian dutifully hands over the demanded cigar, the taste of it burns Ciel's throat red raw, filling him with the feel of ash smoke and all things burning, and he coughs and splutters for water, trying to deny Sebastian's superior looks of _I bloody told you so._

**22. Melody**  
Bach. Mozart. Beethoven.

All men he feels he knows first hand, he has studied them so profusely.

A whistling crack as the bow slaps across his knuckles when his finger's stumble from an A to F sharp. Ciel glares heatedly at Sebastian, who smiles almost playfully at him. "From the top, young Master. No mistakes this time."

He remembers first handling the body of the instrument, it's deep curves like the mirror of a well developed woman's body, twisting his small fingers pass the taunt horse hair strings to tickle the hollow insides. Now just the smell of riding through pine forests and greasy oil evokes memories of violins.

He glances once, twice, at the sheet music, memorizing the next lines and adjusting his fingers accordingly, slowly rocking his body to access maximum timbre of the sound. From time to time, Ciel manages a few upward glances at Sebastian, whose maroon eyes are hinting towards being redder, pupils still wide, carefully watching his form.

**23. Star**  
His horoscope comes in the mail. He already knows he's going to die, there's nothing left in life to worry him now. He burns it in the grill.

Once when driving home from London in the middle of a storm, a bolt of thunder had split a tree in half, the Phantomhive family watching the display from out the window of the carriage. Ciel wondered how something so intangible could harness so much destructive power within it's self.

**26. Lure**

"You're the monster my father warned me about," Ciel says, when Sebastian is in the middle of pouring his tea. Brief disconcert crosses his lovely features, the only indication he's heard his Master. Set up on his mahogany desk are an army of stuffed toys, rabbits, foxes, chickens and snakes to name a few, pen in hand as Ciel dutifully assesses each one as 'child proof'.

"At bed time he would read the Brothers Grimm, tales that warned impressionable children like myself that in every forest there is a big bad wolf waiting in the gloom to tempt you nearer to his claws. And he would gobble you up, given the chance," Ciel's clear eye flits up to peer at Sebastian's reaction- composed as ever.

Sebastian assembles the cutlery back onto the gurney, knife, fork, spoon in their allocated places beside the serving plate, allowing a crafty smile to form when Ciel bows his head back down, lecture for today finished.

"Young Master, a wolf's etiquette leaves something to be desired. Rest assured, I have much more fineness than that," Sebastian leans across the desk, chin just brushing by the silken fur of a rabbit's ear, and very slowly, runs his tongue across his red stained lips.

Ciel presses his back further into his chair, face flustered and orders Sebastian out of his sight.


End file.
